Exercise 5
A patient tempest gathers up the tide.
Chronos sapping off my eyes, ‘emancipate
your palty claims upon this world’ it speaks,
and waits–a storm can sit upon your head
and drill itself into a soul’s tumult.
Who was it I was seeing? I’ve lost
myself amongst the dripping dew of days.
A bloody spittle gathers at the till–
so much of me has fallen into water.
It’s just like this, the storm that lingers,
the angel falls from agent to observe.
But the body moves, alone it shreds itself,
eraser dust that constituted beauty.
If all existence will return to this,
and this moment falls away in fractal,
every life becoming every other
then recall you’ve known my love already.
So why can’t I? Before the tranquil water
relaxes all the atoms of my heart apart,
know itself–and why He wants me to,
participating in the fractal moment,
reconstitute myself in all He knows.
Even if the storm will pull away,
and bits collect themselves again from dust,
steady fear lives in its endless patience,
confident this faith, one day, will fall.